Dusk and Summer
by emerald-soco
Summary: What if Nathan and Brooke had been the ones left in Tree Hill for the summer following the S2 finale? COMPLETED!
1. Don't Wait

Apparently, my obsession of the week is Nathan/Brooke. The title, chapters, and lyrics of this story will be from Dashboard's new album 'Dusk and Summer' and the characters aren't mine, either. Enjoy! And don't forget to leave feedback!

**Don't Wait**

_The sky glows_

_I see it shining with my eyes closed_

_I hear your warnings but we both know_

_I'm gonna look at it again_

"Guess it's just you and me this summer."

Brooke pulled her knees closer to her chest and nodded at Nathan's words. She'd come to the beach to relax after saying good-bye to both Lucas and Peyton, horrified at the prospect of having to spend the next three months alone. Brooke was rich, pretty, and popular. She didn't know _how_ to be alone.

Which was why she found herself feeling inwardly grateful to Nathan for showing up. His sad eyes and defeated tone aside, he was a definite step up from the twelve weeks of magazines and ice cream that stretched out ahead of her. They may not have been best friends, but she was scraping the bottom of the barrel and couldn't really afford to be picky.

"Pull up some sand," she invited grandly, gesturing to the space beside her. "Misery loves company, right?"

She caught a glimpse of his smirk as he settled himself onto the ground. "I've heard that rumor. So. Lucas is off to High Flyers, huh?"

"Correct. He's spending three whole months surrounded by sweaty, muscular athletes while I … am living with his mother." Brooke's nose wrinkled. "I think it'd be some kind of irony if it didn't just suck."

Nathan snickered. "That's nothing. My brother got my spot at the best basketball camp in the country and my wife just boarded a bus to spend the whole summer with Chris Keller."

"Please," Brooke scoffed, her eyes beginning to twinkle as her competitive streak sparked. "Lucas left, _plus_ Peyton ditched me for some lame-ass road trip with her dad, _plus_ Karen expects me to actually work at the café, _plus_ her stupid son confessed to having more than friendly feelings towards me minutes before he oh-so-conveniently had to leave."

There was a pause, then Nathan, keeping his voice deliberately flat, said, "Haley kissed Chris before they left."

Brooke winced. "Okay. You win."

"A real honor," he drawled sarcastically, more to himself than to her.

"So …" It was none of her business, she knew that, but Brooke could never resist getting involved in a good love triangle. "What does that mean? For you and Haley? I mean, technically, it's adultery, isn't it?"

Nathan gave her a look that said he really didn't want to get into this discussion, but answered anyway. "I don't think one kiss is really the same thing as adultery."

"How do you know it was just one kiss?" she returned, and immediately blanched. "Sorry. Open mouth, insert foot."

"Yeah." He exhaled harshly, trying not to let how shaken her comment had left him. One kiss, he could handle. Maybe. But more … anything more would be ripping his heart out and grinding it into dust. Anything more would be Haley deliberately hurting him and he didn't think he could take that. "Tact isn't your strong suit, is it?"

"Most people think I don't even _have _a strong suit," she replied, but she grinned a little, as if it were all a big joke.

Nathan shook his head. "God, Brooke, how do you _do_ that? Just not let anything anyone says ever bother you?"

"Expectations are a bitch." The look she gave him was cool and assessing, like she knew he knew exactly what she was talking about. "If I don't let anyone have any of me, I can do whatever I want. You should try it sometime."

A life without expectations. With Dan Scott as a father, it was an impossible thought, but it captured his attention. What kind of freedom was it, Nathan wondered, to not have anyone to answer to? He kept up a good air of being in control, but truthfully, he'd been under someone else's thumb his entire life. First his father, then coaches, now a wife to answer to. He'd never been on his own.

It was weird to think that Brooke Davis, who had only months ago been the most spoiled girl in the Western hemisphere, had more experience exercising her free will than he did. Sure, it got her into trouble – a lot of it, if the school's rumor mill was any indication – but she didn't look in such bad shape.

"Nah," he finally lied, upon realizing she was waiting for him to respond. "Expectations aren't a problem for me. I don't disappoint."

She quirked an eyebrow upwards so that one of the corners of her mouth followed, softening the blow of her next words with a rather kind look. "So what're are you doing sitting here with me, all alone for the summer?"

Despite the soft delivery, Nathan felt the sting and bristled, standing up and brushing the sand from his jeans. "Good point. I guess I'll see you around, Davis."

"See you," she echoed, and kept her eyes on his retreating figure until he'd disappeared from sight.

XXX

Brooke didn't feel guilty, exactly. Guilt was mostly a foreign concept to her, as unfamiliar as restraint, regret, and trust. But all afternoon, as she sat at the beach watching the sun fade in the sky, she felt … squirmy. The mental image of Nathan walking away from her, getting smaller with the distance, had haunted her.

It was just that he'd looked so _lonely_, hands stuffed in his pockets and shoulders squared against the sky. She really hadn't meant any harm, she was just telling it like it was, like she always did. Brooke may not have been anywhere close to a saint, but there was one thing she didn't do and that was lie.

"Hi," she greeted, oddly nervous once he'd swung open the door and stared her down blankly. "Look, I know I pissed you off at the beach earlier, but I was thinking about it and I mean, it _is_ just you and me this summer. We're the coolest people this town has left and, really, Tree Hill needs us to join forces. No one else can party like we can."

Nathan shook his head, the beginnings of a smile playing at his lips in spite of his best attempt to hold a grudge. Brooke definitely knew how to make an argument. "You mean, united, we keg-stand?"

She nodded her confirmation. "Divided, we mope. And I do _not _like moping. It's bad for my pores. So if you could just find it in your heart to forgive me, we could move on and start shaking this place up a bit."

"Find it in my heart, huh?" He took his time pretending to consider her offer. "Well. I guess I could try. For the good of the town, of course. After all, what would high schoolers all over the county do if we didn't provide their Friday night entertainment?"

"Exactly." Brooke beamed at him. "If we're going to be stuck here for the next three months, we need to make them the craziest, most ridiculous, _best_ three months of our youth. When I'm old and still brunette, thank God for Clairol, I want to look back and say, 'I can't believe I survived that summer with Nathan'."

He grinned back, surprising himself with how easily he'd given in. He was obviously more hard-up for companionship than he'd thought, if hanging out with Brooke was something he was actually looking forward to, but he'd take what he could get. "We can probably reach that goal. Starting with, oh, I don't know … a bonfire? This weekend, right on the beach?"

"I'll spread the word." She winked, and he knew the entire town would be buzzing in anticipation before the clock struck midnight. "You know … if we do this right, this summer might not be a complete and total bust."

Haley's image flashed through his mind, her head bent over her guitar, a spotlight making her hair shine as she took a stage somewhere miles from him. Lucas followed, landing a layup just as the buzzer went off, sending his teammates into an explosion of cheers. He even thought of Peyton, blasting the car radio and singing along to classic rock with her father, making up for all their lost time.

Everyone else in his life was making their dreams come true this summer. Maybe he couldn't do exactly that, since even _he_ wasn't sure what it was he wanted out of his life, but he had enough days laying ahead of him to figure it out, and why not have a good time doing it?

"You're right, it might not be half bad," he told Brooke, favoring her with a full-on grin, but turned serious a second later. "But hey. No more cheap shots, okay?"

Impulsively, she leaned up on her tiptoes to peck his cheek. "No more insults," she promised, flashing her dimples a final time before turning to leave. "But there'll be plenty of cheap shots. Vodka, gin, whiskey sour … let the fun begin!"

He waited until her car door had slammed and the engine started before he let himself laugh. With Brooke around, he could be assured it would be a summer to remember, one way or the other.


	2. Reason To Believe

Ah! Hi, everyone, sorry this took so long, major computer issues. But thanks for the responses so far, I'm glad it's caught some people's attention! Hopefully you like this chapter as much, and the next one won't take me as long! Remember, feedback makes the writing faster! Thanks again!

**Reason To Believe**

_I know you're strong enough to handle what I need_

_My body needs a reason to cross that line_

_Won't you carry me there just one more time?_

"Davis, I do believe you've outdone yourself," Nathan said by way of greeting.

It was Friday, the day of the party he'd agreed to co-host, and it seemed as if everywhere he'd gone all week, people had been talking of nothing else. Everyone who was anyone within the halls of Tree Hill High was planning to attend. After he'd figured out just how popular of an event it was shaping up to be, he'd decided to hit the beach early and see if he could lend a hand.

"Well, I do good work," she bragged, giving him a wink. "But you're a little early for the festivities."

"I came to help out, but it looks like you've got everything under control," he observed, scanning the beach. The bonfire pit was ready and waiting for a match to be struck, encircled by an array of mismatched lawn chairs, and there were boom boxes placed strategically away from the water, all tuned to the same station.

She nodded, following his gaze and unable to completely wipe the self-satisfied smirk from her face. "Yeah, I promised a couple sophomores dates if they'd do all the heavy lifting."

Nathan snorted. "So what'd you do, supervise?"

"_I_ spent the past week trolling every liquor store in the county, batting my eyelashes and pushing my cleavage up for every businessman who walked by," Brooke informed him haughtily.

She added an eye roll, as if the experience had been some sort of inconvenience to her, but Nathan figured she hadn't really been that annoyed. If there was one thing Brooke didn't mind, it was using her body to its fullest advantage.

Unaware of his thought track, Brooke continued on, "It was exhausting work, thank you, we needed a pretty massive amount of illegal beverages. Thirsty?" She pointed out a cache of coolers a few feet away. "Beers in the blue ones, hard stuff's in the red. Pick your poison."

"Tempting, but I think I'll wait until it's, oh, I don't know, _not_ two o'clock in the afternoon," he teased, gesturing to the drink in her own hand.

"Hey, buddy, two is the new five, and everybody knows drinking at five is perfectly acceptable." Brooke toasted him and then took a long swig, smacking her lips as if the early hour had only improved the taste. "Oh! And I've got the _perfect_ job for you!"

The gleam in her eye piqued his interest. "Bring it on."

Her laugh was low and husky as she gathered her hair in a loose knot atop her head and turned her back on the water and him. "Rub my shoulders."

She said it like she was already certain he would obey, smiling like she dared him to do otherwise. He wasn't sure what it was – the confidence in her voice, or maybe something as simple as how smooth her skin looked – but he wanted very much to meet the challenge.

It was no mirage, no trick of the bright midday sun. Her skin really _was_ that soft, seeming to warm and glow under his fingertips as he worked to melt away the tight knots of muscle beneath the surface. "You know," he said, mainly to distract himself, "For someone who hasn't done any work today, you sure are tense."

"Well, look at the company I'm keeping," she retorted, glad he couldn't see her face from his angle. She hated to admit it, but his skills as a masseuse were as impressive as they were unexpected. Her body hadn't felt so relaxed in ages. "You could get on a girl's last nerve, Scott … oh, like that one, right there. Yes. _Oh_."

The moan that escaped made her blush, and caused Nathan's eyebrows to shoot up and meet his hairline. A smirk played at the corner of his lips. "Wow, Davis, I never knew you were so easy. Oh, wait. Yes, I did."

She tried not to giggle, knowing it would only encourage him, but it burst out of her throat anyway. "Shut up and don't stop," she commanded through her laughter, and he was only too happy to oblige.

XXX

Several hours later, the party had reached epic proportions. Teenaged bodies in various stages of dress and undress, tipsy-drunk and trashed-drunk, were strewn across the sand as far as the eye could see. Raucous laughter floated up over the blasting music and the splash of waves against the sand.

It was a familiar scene. The smell of the sea, the playful screams and shouts of her peers, the pleasant buzz in her brain from alcohol. If Brooke closed her eyes and concentrated very hard, she could almost make herself believe she was having a good time.

From the other side of the bonfire pit, Nathan glanced up from his beer to see her swaying on her feet, head lolling to the side as if she were boneless. "Talk to you later, man," he said abruptly, leaving his teammate in mid-sentence as he hurried across the sand. "Brooke?"

"Mm-hmm?" She didn't open her eyes, but her body stilled. "What?"

"Are you … okay?" He bent a little at the knees, trying to get a closer look at her face. "You look kind of out of it."

"It's a party." Unexpectedly, her eyes opened, landing squarely on his and finding them almost nose to nose. "Being out of it is the whole point."

"Wow, that's about as deep as you are into the bottle," he shot back cheekily, flashing a grin. He wouldn't be volunteering for any Breathalyzers tonight, either, but he respected the fact that he had a limit. Brooke, he knew, disregarded her tolerance level the same way she disregarded anything that tried to hold her back. "Is there a particular reason you're hitting it so hard tonight?"

Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly and for a moment, he thought she might actually confide in him. Then her eyes focused, narrowed, and she twisted her lips into a mockery of a smile. "Why not?" she replied, with a shrug that only seemed careless. "Look around, Nathan. These are the best years of our lives. And this is the only way we know how to celebrate. Cheers."

She finished off her drink and tossed the plastic cup over her shoulder. Nathan watched it hit the sand and shook his head. Two feet away from them, the party was still raging, everyone dancing and laughing like they were having the time of their lives, and it was suddenly such a tired scene. How many times had he indulged in the same mindless routine? And when was the last time he'd had any real fun doing it?

"Hello?" Irritated at his lack of response, Brooke managed to rise to her tiptoes, shoving herself into his personal space. "Earth to Nathan. Are you going to finish your beer? There are sober people in Charleston, you know."

He'd lost all desire to get smashed and laugh about it in the morning, but he downed the drink so that she wouldn't. "Satisfied?" he asked, wiping his lips dry and trying to think. "Listen, you're right, this party's lame. And didn't we decide we're far too cool to have a lame summer?"

"I thought you liked lame now, Nate." Brooke's eyes gleamed meanly, like an animal about to go in for the kill. "Isn't that why you're with Haley?"

It was a low blow – so low, in fact, that he reconsidered every semi-nice thought he'd had about her in the past week. But Nathan couldn't quite bring himself to be as offended as he should have been. A large part of the reason he'd fallen for Haley _was_ because she was so predictable. It was all he'd ever wanted, to feel safe with someone else.

But as deep as her insult stung, he wasn't going to let Brooke off the hook that easily. She _wanted_ him to get mad and leave her alone. He could tell, he'd played the same angle a hundred times before. "Listen," he started, then broke off, sighed, tried again. "You're drunk, Brooke."

She gasped, feigning shock. "Sherlock!"

"And it's late," he continued, ignoring her attitude, "And the cops will be out soon to break this little shindig up. How 'bout I overlook the fact that you're being a raging bitch and just give you a life home, huh?"

"Home." She tossed her hair and tried for flippancy. "I don't have a home. No parents. No place to go. It's quite the life. Jealous?"

"Green," Nathan confirmed, wondering how someone with such a wide smile on her face could look so miserable. "Come on, if you don't wanna face Karen tanked, you can crash with me tonight."

"A-ha." Brooke pressed closer, if that were even possible, so that each and every one of her curves seemed to be leaving an indelible mark on his body. "I see what you're after."

"And what's that?" Rolling his eyes – they could go back and forth all night, he knew – he scooped her into his arms, slinging her over his shoulder in the fireman's carry.

Instead of freaking out as he'd expected, Brooke only laughed, low and husky and just a little bit dangerous. Shifting to wrap her legs around his waist, she brought her mouth an inch away from his ear, so that her tongue flicked his lobe as she spoke. "You only want me for my body," she whispered, a tad cruelly, and laughed again as he stumbled and nearly fell.

Regaining his footing, Nathan shook his head to clear it and concentrated on tuning the rest of her taunts out. He needed to focus if he wanted to them both safely back to his house … and right now, he'd never wanted anything as badly as he wanted to see Brooke Davis wrapped up in his sheets.


	3. The Secret's In the Telling

Okay, a MILLION apologies to everyone who read this when I first started it and has been waiting for updates since then. My muse completely deserted me. Luckily, it's back now, so I hope that there are still some people interested in this story! As always, please review and let me know what you think!

**The Secret's In the Telling**

_There is a secret that we keep_

_I won't sleep if you won't sleep_

'_Cause tonight may be the last chance we are given._

Halfway to his house, Nathan almost crashed the car into a telephone pole.

He cursed as he jerked the wheel and slammed on the brakes, barely hearing Brooke's terrified shriek over his own mental freakout. "_Jesus H. Christ, Nathan!_" she yelled as soon as he'd brought them safely to a stop. "I think the whole point of giving a drunk person a ride home is so they _don't_ die."

"Shut up," he ordered, burying his face in his palms and breathing hard. "I just lost my concentration for a minute. We're fine, aren't we?"

Brooke scowled and crossed her arms. "Barely," she muttered darkly. "What the hell happened, anyway? We're the only ones on the road."

He kept his mouth shut tight. No way was he telling her that her head resting on his shoulder while she dozed off had distracted him to the point of near-death. "I'm buzzed, I guess. That's all."

She eyed him, seeming to consider something. "Yeah, well, just make sure it doesn't happen again. I'm too pretty to die."

Nathan snorted as he guided them back onto the road. "Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Davis."

He'd meant it purely in fun, but the remark seemed to genuinely offend her. "Like you wouldn't stand in line for some quality time with me."

He smirked. "I don't fall in line that easily, Brooke."

Still frowning, she leaned forward to jab at the radio buttons before settling on an oldies station in Nathan's presets. The Eagles filled the car, crooning "Tequila Sunrise". Nathan quirked an eyebrow up. "Didn't figure you for an oldies kind of girl, Davis."

"Surprise, surprise," she mumbled, now rummaging through her purse.

"You're dead asleep for the first half of the ride and suddenly you can't sit still?" he asked, bemused by her fidgeting.

"Just looking for this." With a smile, she produced a flask and uncapped it, taking a long swig. "Don't look so shocked, Nathan. I'm pretty sure you've seen a flask before."

"And I'm pretty sure you're already good and drunk," he countered.

"True story. This –" She took another gulp, screwing up her face as the liquid passed down her throat. "Is to make sure I stay that way."

Nathan shook his head. "What's the deal, Brooke? Seriously. I know you can have fun without the alcohol."

Brooke made another face, this time due to what he was saying. "God, Nate, have you looked in a mirror lately? You do realize you're not a thirty five year old father, don't you?"

He glared. "Just because I can drink without the purpose of getting tanked –"

"Oh, stop right there," she interrupted, cackling gleefully. "I'm begging you, it's too much. You're_ killing_ me, Nathan. Don't you remember how to have any fun? I mean, you're young and hot. Has Tutor Girl completely brainwashed you?"

Just to shut her up, he plucked the flask from her fingers lightning-fast and drained it, closing his eyes against the burn. Brooke laughed, for real now, and clapped her hands. "'Atta boy," she approved, leaning over to press a smacking kiss to his cheek. "Now get us home before that hits you and you try to introduce me to another telephone pole."

XXX

By the time Nathan put the car in park, his head was swimming with the amount of alcohol he'd consumed. After a struggle with his seatbelt that he found hysterical, he stumbled up the path and jammed his key into the lock.

"Don't _break_ it," Brooke scolded through her own fit of giggles. "I don't wanna sleep on the freakin' sidewalk."

"It wouldn't be that much different than the …" Nathan struggled to recall the word he was looking for. "The floor."

Brooke gasped and swatted the back of his head lightly. "I am _not_ sleeping on your dirty floor, Nathan Scott," she declared, making her way to the bedroom. "As your guest, I'm automatically entitled to the bed. _You_ will be on the floor, like any true gentleman would be."

That settled, she busied herself turning down the covers and fluffing the pillows for herself. As involved as she was in the task, she didn't see Nathan lunge to protect his area. She shrieked as he caught her around the waist and tackled her to the mattress, pinning her body beneath his.

Lifting himself onto his elbows so as not to crush her, Nathan smiled smugly. "I never said I was a gentleman."

Brooke's laughter subsided at the intensity of the stare he was giving her. Suddenly, she became aware of just how close they were. One of Nathan's legs was nestled between her own and their torsos were pressed together so that she could feel his heart beating in tandem with hers. Nervous now, her tongue darted out to wet her lips before she replied, "Well, that explains why you're okay with ambushing a girl half your size."

Nathan barely heard a word she said, his eyes intently following her tongue's path. "You're not putting up much of a fight."

She hesitated before confessing, "Maybe I don't want to."

With those words, Nathan was granted the permission he'd been waiting for. With a groan, his head swooped down to capture her lips with his and she arched her back to meet him halfway.

His tongue ran across her lips, just as hers had minutes ago, then pushed past the barrier to duel with hers. Brooke moaned and buried her fingers in his hair, tugging him even closer. He shifted his leg for more leverage, spreading her thighs wider in the process.

"What – what are we doing?" Brooke asked breathlessly, when his lips finally left hers to travel down her throat. "Nathan?"

"I think that's pretty obvious," he replied, never pausing in the attention he was giving her collarbone. "If you want me to stop, tell me now."

"I don't – I don't know." She gasped as he found a particularly ticklish spot behind her ear. "I'm drunk. _You're_ drunk. And married. Oh, my God, you're drunk and married."

"She left me," he reminded her, finally pulling away. Brooke whimpered as cool air replaced the feel of his lips on her skin. "And you're the one who said I didn't have enough fun in my life, remember?"

"Oh, so that's what this is? Just you acting out some frat boy fantasy?" she said angrily, struggling to push herself into a sitting position even with his body still mostly on top of hers.

Nathan's eyes dropped to the strap of her tank top, which had slipped off to reveal creamy, tanned skin that just begged to be kissed. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "I mean, we haven't had a civil conversation in – years, Brooke. We don't get along. I have _no_ reason to want you like this … but I really, really do."

She raised her eyes to his slowly, gauging his sincerity. "Well, I guess I can't hold that against you," she mused, shrugging her one bare shoulder carelessly. "I _am_ pretty hot."

"_Extremely_ hot," he agreed, his lips hovering inches away from hers.

"And it's not like we're gonna be a _thing_ after this," she continued. "I mean, it's just sex. No strings, right?"

"No strings." He was only a breath away now, so that she could feel his lips vibrate against hers, sending a shiver down her spine.

Her self control held out for another long moment, then she twined her arms around his neck and closed the distance between them. "What the hell?" she murmured between kisses, her lips curving into a sly smile. "I can keep a secret."

With a matching grin, Nathan peeled off her tank top, mapping quick, light kisses from her belly button to her dimples. "So can I," he promised into her mouth, before claiming it once more with his own.


	4. Stolen

**Stolen**

_I watch you spin around in the highest of heels_

_You are the best one of the best ones_

_You have stolen, you have stolen my heart_

Brooke awoke with a pounding headache and an even heavier pressure resting on her side. She blinked and glanced down to see a muscular, male arm wrapped firmly around her waist, anchoring her to the bed. Craning her neck, she was treated to a close up view of Nathan Scott's handsome face.

What was she doing in bed with Nathan – practically spooning, for God's sake? Brooke's brows furrowed as she thought back, trying to piece together the alcohol-soaked fragments of her night. He'd given her a ride home. Had the bastard taken advantage of her?

She chewed her bottom lip. That didn't seem right, somehow. She'd known Nathan for half a lifetime and, while he was many unforgivable things, a pervert who preyed on drunk girls wasn't one of them. He was way too good-looking and, okay, charming, to have to resort to such a low.

"Oh, my God," Brooke said aloud as memory dawned. "I slept with Nathan Scott."

As if responding to his name, he mumbled something in his sleep and shifted slightly, pulling her flush against his body. Brooke's eyes widened. She had _slept_ with Lucas' brother. And, if memory served, she'd definitely enjoyed it. Twice.

"I've gotta get out of here,' she murmured. Luckily, sneaking out was a Brooke Davis specialty. Gingerly, she lifted hi arm and slid out from under his hold, replacing her body with a pillow he immediately snuggled up against. "Aw, how cute," she giggled to herself before hurrying to gather up her clothes. Properly clothes, Brooke eased the door open, tiptoed over the threshold, and immediately bumped into an umbrella stand.

The ensuing crash brought a bleary-eyed, half-naked Nathan stumbling into the hallway. "Brooke?" he yawned, raking a hand through his hair. "What the hell?"

"Uh … hi! Morning!" she chirped, inwardly cursing her luck. Who under the age of seventy even _had_ an umbrella stand in their house? "Um, how did you sleep?"

"Fine." More awake now, he eyed her curiously. "Until someone made a huge racket and woke me up. What are you doing?"

_Escaping_, she thought. "Oh, I was just going to, uh, make some coffee," she improvised, redirecting her route to the kitchen. "Do you want any?"

He shuffled his way behind her, still dressed in only his boxers. "Sure, if you're making it," he said easily. "Mugs are up there. Oh, here."

Brooke straining on her tiptoes to reach the high shelf, froze as he pressed behind her to grab the mugs. "What's wrong?" he asked, when she made no move to take them from his hands. "Brooke? You look like a deer in headlights."

"Well, you're kind of smothering me," she snapped, snatching the mugs and stepping away from him. "Jeez."

He stared at her like she had five heads. "Sorry. Guess someone's cranky in the morning, huh?"

"Someone wouldn't be so cranky if someone _else_ wasn't trying to act like her husband." Brooke flicked the coffee pot on and simmered right along with it. "Jesus, Nate, we sleep together once and all of a sudden we're freakin' Ozzie and Harriet?"

"One," Nathan ticked off on his fingers, "We slept together _twice_. And two … I thought Ozzy was married to Sharon."

"Cute," she sneered at him, then shook her head. "You know what? I can't do this. I'm not gonna drink my coffee and share the newspaper and give you some misguided hope that this is going anywhere. I'm out of here."

And before he could even comprehend what was happening, she was gone.

XXX

Nathan would be the first one to admit that O'Leary's, the only under-21 club in town, was the sketchiest place in Tree Hill, but Tim had nagged him into attending the Booze-A-Palooza it was hosting. Normally, he would have turned down the invite in favor of almost anything else, but with most of his friends out of town and Brooke still MIA, his social life was in serious need of resuscitation.

It had been three days since Brooke's meltdown and three nights since he'd slept peacefully. It didn't escape him that her absence and his insomnia could be directly related, but he was determined to ignore it. If she wanted to act like a crazy bitch, then so be it. There would be plenty of girls at O'Leary's to take his mind off it.

"This is gonna be so great, man," Tim enthused as they entered. "We're gonna get _so_ much ass tonight."

"We, Tim?" Nathan lifted an eyebrow at his friend.

"It could happen," the other boy returned defensively. "I mean, look at all these girls. It's like a banquet."

It was no exaggeration. The club was crawling with girls from Tree Hill High, all dressed up in their shortest skirts and strappiest sandals, moving their hips in time to the music. Nathan scanned the floor, stopping at the back of a brunette in a red halter top who was lifting her hair into a ponytail.

He blinked as she let go and let the loose knot cascade down her back again. He would recognize those shoulders anywhere. "Brooke Davis," he murmured. Tim looked at him questioningly. "Tim, my man. Let's get a drink. This is going to be an interest night."

He paced himself. There was no way he was going to rush up to her and demand where she'd been the past couple days. But he wanted answers and what Nathan Scott wanted, he usually got.

For a while, he just sat back and enjoyed the view. Without even trying, Brooke stood out from the crowd – blatantly beautiful, carelessly sexual, and always on display. No one could move quite like she could. And apparently Nathan wasn't the only one enjoying it. His eyes narrowed as he watched the guy Brooke was dancing with loop his arms around her waist and tug her close even as she appeared to be struggling to put some distance between the,

"Excuse me," Nathan interrupted pleasantly enough. "Mind if I cut in?"

The guy glared. "Who the hell are you?"

"My boyfriend," Brooke said quickly, wrenching her arm out of his grasp and latching onto Nathan's. "Baby. What took you so long? You're late."

"I know, and I'm sorry, snookums," he replied, taking advantage of the situation to nuzzle her neck. "I got caught up at work. Let me make it up to you. If you'll excuse us, buddy."

As soon as he'd maneuvered her out of the man's eyesight, Brooke dropped his hand. "Snookums?" she snarled.

"First you don't want a husband, then you're telling the whole world I'm your boyfriend." Nathan grinned, pretty pleased with himself. "You should make up your mind, Davis."

"Oh, shut up," she grumbled, unable to be too angry at him. He'd saved the day, after all. "And wipe that smirk off your face."

"I'm sorry, it's just –" Nathan stopped as Brooke hopped onto a barstool and a blackening bruise on her arm caught the light. "Did he do that to you?"

"What? Oh, that? He must've just grabbed harder than I thought." Brooke waved it off, pressing her hands onto his shoulders when he started to get up. "Please don't, Nathan. I really don't want a scene, okay? We know half the people here."

He relented, mostly because she'd actually said 'please', a word he hadn't thought was in her vocabulary. "Okay. But we need to go somewhere. Just to talk, gutterbrain," he added when she started to protest. "Jesus. I can restrain myself around you for a few minutes. Especially 'cause I didn't enjoy your little Exorcist moment last time around."

Brooke pretended to consider, but really she had no choice. It was either go talk with Nathan or be left alone to deal with Joe or Josh or whatever his name had been. "Fine," she hugged, "But we'll go to my house this time."

Maybe there, she thought, she could remind herself who she was and exactly why she shouldn't be screwing around – literally – with Nathan Scott.


	5. Rooftops and Invitations

**Rooftops and Invitations**

_She just might get you lost_

_And she just might leave you torn_

_But she just might save your soul_

"Home, sweet, home," Brooke announced sarcastically, flicking on the lights and dropping her keys back into her purse. "Make yourself comfortable … if that's even possible."

"I feel like I should take off my shoes and whisper," Nathan remarked, in awe of the house's museum-like aura. "Did your parents _try_ to make it this unwelcoming?"

She smiled at that, a little sadly. "I'm not sure they even know what the inside looks like anymore," she told him. "They vacation a lot. Come on. I'll show you the best part of the whole place."

"Brooke Davis, are you taking me to your bedroom?" he leered, fully enjoying the view as she led him up a winding staircase.

She was, but she didn't stop there. Nathan watched, confused, as Brooke crossed the room, slid open a glass door and disappeared onto a balcony. "You coming or what?"

He followed, but found the terrace empty. "Up here," Brooke called out, and his eyes scanned the dark until he saw a ladder.

"So let me get this straight," he said when he'd climbed up to the – thankfully flat – roof and found her waiting for him. "You've got this mansion full of huge rooms and overstuffed chairs and you like to … sit on the roof?"

"It's quiet up here," Brooke shrugged.

"It seemed pretty quiet down there, too," he pointed out.

She rolled her eyes at him. "A different kind of quiet, Scott. You said it yourself … you have to whisper in the house. Out here, well, you can scream."

His grin flashed, a point of reference in the pitch blackness that surrounded them. "Prove it."

Brooke laughed and extended a hand for him to pull her up with. On her feet, she made a show of inhaling deeply, shaking her shoulders, and then she let out a scream so loud that he actually winced. "Whew," she said when she'd regained her breath. "That was a good one. Wanna try?"

"I'm good, thanks," Nathan declined, rubbing his ears. "I'm also deaf."

She gave him the first genuine smile of the night and dropped back down to sit, crossing her legs Indian style. "You said you wanted to talk," she reminded him. "So talk."

"Well, when I said talk," Nathan hedged. "I kind of meant, you explain what happened the other day. You may remember a little something about freaking out in my kitchen …?"

His eyes had adjusted to the dark well enough that he could see the blush crawl up her cheeks. "I was hungover," she mumbled, studying her lap. "And maybe … a little bit … temporarily insane."

Nathan was unable to resist. "Hungover and crazy … aren't those like, your default settings?"

She snorted, trying to hide her laughter. "Careful, Nathan," she warned, "Remember, I know where the roof ends."

"I'm shaking in my boots," he informed her, then paused. "You're not as scary as you like to make people think, Davis."

Her smile flickered. "And you shouldn't assume you know me just because we spent one night together, Scott."

There it was again – the same sharp tone he recognized from her meltdown at his house. He was beginning to think Brooke was nothing but jagged edges covered in silky skin, an illusion of attitude and sex created to distract the masses from thinking there could be any more to her than that.

He was starting to see through her.

"I think I do know you, Brookie," he said, careful to keep his tone casual. "I mean, let's face it, how many other guys have you let climb that ladder? 'Cause my guess is one, and his name started with an 'L'."

"Wrong again." Brooke shook her head, ignoring the stinging sensation at the backs of her eyes that came every time she thought of Lucas. "Lucas hasn't been up here."

That threw Nathan for a loop. "Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack," she confirmed. "And don't think the fact that I've shown you and not Lucas means anything, bigshot. Your brother and I have a complicated situation and I guess I don't … entirely … trust him. After the thing with Peyton, and all. You're here because I know exactly how I feel about you, that's all."

He cleared his throat, still trying to recover from the shock of being privy to something in Brooke's life that Lucas had no clue about. "And how's that?"

Brooke shrugged. "We're friends."

"Friends don't generally see each other naked, Brooke," Nathan replied, his confidence returning as he called her bluff.

"On the contrary, Nathan, friends getting drunk and crossing a few lines is one of the oldest stories in the book," she shot back. "Please don't try to tell me that you think what happened between us created some deep, meaningful bond, because I don't want to hear it. That's not you and it's _definitely_ not me."

"Really? 'Cause I think it is," he snapped. "I think Brooke Davis is just like every other girl in the world, waiting for Prince Charming to come rescue her from her big empty castle. And _that's_ why Lucas disappointed you so much when he hooked up with Peyton, and _that's_ why you ran out of my house the other day."

"The house you share with your _wife_?" she yelled back, jumping to her feet to pace. "God, Nathan, get a clue. I wasn't running away because I'd secretly fallen in love with you. I knew we'd made a mistake, and I was trying to erase it. _That's_ who I am. I do bad things, and then I try and pretend that I didn't."

He sat back, the wind knocked out of him at the mention of Haley. He'd forgotten – or told himself he'd forgotten – that he still had responsibilities, commitments, to his wife. Truthfully, he didn't even know if she was still his wife. At the very least, she had kissed another man before running away with him for three months. Worst case scenario … well, he didn't really want to picture the ways Haley and Chris could be passing their time on the road together.

"There," Brooke said, when a minute had ticked by and Nathan still hadn't said anything. "You see? So you can stop with the romantic notions and the knowing-me-better-than-I-know-myself routine. I saw it last week on Lifetime and I'm _not_ interested."

Nathan shook his head, trying to clear it. How could one girl – especially _this_ one girl, someone he'd known for years and never given a second thought to – make him forget everything about himself? Make him question everything he was so sure he knew? "I wasn't trying to rescue you, Brooke," he said finally. "I wasn't looking for – _this_ – any more than you were."

Brooke stopped pacing and heaved a sigh. "Look, Nathan, I like you," she confessed, coming to stand over him. "I genuinely enjoy your company. And maybe that's just because we're the only ones still in town, but it doesn't make it any less true. I don't want to lose you as a friend just because we got drunk and screwed up one time."

He was grateful for the dark when he raised his head to meet her gaze. It was easier to tell the truth when he couldn't quite make out the details of her features – the flecks of brown he'd noticed in her eyes, the smattering of freckles across her shoulders. "I wasn't all that drunk."

She stepped back. "What did you just say?"

"I wasn't drunk," he repeated, louder. The look that flashed in her eyes told him it might be a good time to stand up so he could meet her anger head on. "I mean, I'd had a few, but I wasn't buzzed like I said I was. I just … wanted to be with you. And if you ever tell anyone that I just said that, I will drag you back up here and toss you off this roof."

Brooke was silent, processing the confession he'd just made. "Oh, my God," she muttered to herself, a tiny chuckle escaping her lips. "Oh, Nathan, you make me crazy."

"I know the feeling," he replied, a little warily. "But I think you were crazy way before I entered the picture."

"There wasn't supposed to _be_ a picture!" she moaned, tossing her hands into the air. "I was your revenge screw, you were my summer fling. It was all going to be very uncomplicated. And now you come up here –"

"At your invitation," he reminded.

"And you say all of these things and what am I supposed to do with that, huh? I mean, you're _married_! I'm involved with your brother!" She groaned. "Oh, my God, I'm the other woman. _And_ the cheater. I hate the cheaters. They're scum."

"You're not scum," he told her, then took her by the shoulders, making her face him. "Look. Can we just … not think about all that other stuff right now? I mean, you're right, it _should_ be uncomplicated. It's summer, we're young, and we don't have anyone to answer to. Can't we just enjoy that?"

Brooke tilted her head to look deep into his eyes, stunned by the honesty she saw there. Every fiber in her being was screaming at her that it was a bad idea, that it would all go terribly wrong somewhere down the line and she'd have only herself to blame. But, like she'd told him, she'd always loved to do the wrong thing.

"One condition," she proposed, not breaking eye contact. "We don't mention Lucas or Haley. We keep it simple. Agreed?"

Even as he sealed the deal with a kiss, Nathan knew they were already well past simple.


	6. So Long, So Long

**So Long, So Long**

_And I will leave under the cover of summer's kiss upon the sky_

_Like the stone face of your love just before she says good-bye._

Brooke wasn't a morning person. Birds chirping and sun shining, it just wasn't her scene. She liked to drink until sunrise and sleep through noon. And she had _never_ woken up in someone's arms and simply lain there for an extra minute, soaking in the feeling of being held.

"So I can't help but notice," Nathan murmured, his breath hot in her ear. "That you haven't kicked me out of bed yet."

A smile curved on her lips as she let her eyes flutter closed again. "What are you, a mind-reader? I was just wondering how I was going to drag your ass out to the sidewalk."

It had been three weeks since they'd decided to give this thing between them a try, but last night had been the first time he stayed over. It was definitely new for Brooke – she wasn't one to share her space – but waking up next to Nathan felt … right. Like they'd been doing it forever.

"That's really weird." He yawned and stretched, then settled back into the bad and rewrapped his body around hers. "I was just wondering about your ass, too."

"Pervert," she laughed, low and warm, and elbowed his ribs gently. "What are you doing today?"

"This." He kissed her earlobe, then brushed some stray strands from her neck so his mouth could land there next. "And maybe, later, a little more of this."

Biting her lip to keep the smile from growing, she shifted onto her side to face him and propped herself up on one elbow. "Well, I'm sorry to inform you that you'll be doing _this_ by yourself. I have a shift at the Café this afternoon."

"The hazards of dating a working girl," Nathan sighed. "I guess I might get hungry at some point. Do I get free food if I'm sleeping with the waitress?"

"Uh, no." Brooke tapped a finger against his nose. "Although you get the added bonus of knowing what she looks like naked."

He bit at her finger, making her shriek. "And what a bonus it is," he declared, rolling their bodies so that she lay beneath him. "What time's your shift?"

Brooke craned her neck to get a look at her alarm clock. "Another hour."

"Well, then," he grinned, bringing his lips down to hover over hers. "Let's not waste anymore time."

XXX

To everyone's surprise – including her own – Brooke had turned out to be a pretty decent waitress. She moved with an easy grace amongst tables and patrons, had a memory to rival that of an elephant's, and had been born with a mastery of flirting for tips.

"Good morning and welcome to Karen's Café," Brooke chirped, her eyes still on the countertop she was scrubbing down. "What can I get you?"

"That depends." Nathan smirked as her head shot up. "Are you on the menu?"

As expected, she merely scoffed. "Has that line ever worked?"

"Couple times," he said modestly, sliding onto a stool. "Can I just have the Meat Supreme Breakfast Special, uh, some scrambled eggs, toast, home fries _and_ hash browns, and an extra side of bacon? Oh, and some orange juice?"

Brooke stared, disgusted and a little jealous. "I hate you."

"I'll share," he promised, laughing as she strode into the kitchen.

It was Karen who delivered his meal a few minutes later, setting three plates down in front of him. "You've become one of my best customers these past couple weeks, Nate," she said, her eyes not quite matching the smile on her face. "Something about the service … or the scenery?"

"Can I help it that you're so beautiful, Karen?" he joked, even as his eyes followed Brooke's form as she sashayed across the floor.

"You might want to be careful, Nathan," Karen warned him, noting where his attention was. "Summer's almost over and things will be back to normal soon."

Pretending he hadn't heard, he kept his head down and dug into his food, but moments later, pushed his plates away. He'd lost his appetite.

XXX

Brooke may not have been a huge sports fan, but as a cheerleader, she'd gained a healthy appreciation for how the male body looked when engaged in competitive activity. Toned limbs moving confidently, muscles straining, sweat glistening … it certainly made the games go by faster. And Nathan was no exception, pushing himself to the limits on the riverside court.

She hung back for a few minutes, enjoying the view. He'd lost his shirt for the workout, a decision she definitely approved of. He was so intent on making shot after shot that he didn't even notice her presence until she burst into applause.

"Someone's been working hard," she observed, cocking her head to the side and giving him a coy smile. "Wanna take a break?"

Ignoring the invitation, he jogged to the picnic table and grabbed a bottle of water, chugging it instead of answering. "Okay," Brooke said, unsure of what to make of the less-than-warm greeting. "I thought you said you were coming by the Café at the end of my shift. I waited."

"I forgot," Nathan answered curtly, not meeting her eyes.

She nodded slowly, absorbing a fresh wave of pain. "Yeah, I can see how _this_ would be so distracting that you'd forget about the hot girl you promised dinner and a movie to."

"Basketball is important to me, Brooke." If he just didn't look at her, Nathan coached himself, he'd be able to do this. "I have to work at it daily. I thought you'd get that, since you were with Lucas for so long."

Brooke inhaled sharply at the mention of the blond boy's name. After the agreement they'd made on the roof, they'd carefully avoided discussing all aspects of their normal lives. "Well, he certainly never stood me up to go play," she bit out, then sneered. "Maybe he just didn't need as much practice."

"You don't have to be such a bitch about it," Nathan told her, shaking his head. "It was just dinner and a movie. It's not like we're _married_."

Realization dawned. Nathan had deliberately stood her up and now he was standing here, saying the exact things he knew would hurt her the most. "Karen talked to you, didn't she?" Brooke asked softly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he denied, but she could tell he was lying.

"She talked to me today, too," she told him, her tone still light, almost conversational. "She said that we could be making a lot of trouble for ourselves."

"She may have a point," Nathan cut in, his gaze glued to the ground.

Brooke shook her head sadly. "That's the difference between us, I guess. Because I told her that we knew what we were doing when we started … and I told her it was worth it. You obviously don't agree."

"No, Brooke, it's not that, it's just –" Beyond frustrated, Nathan raked a hand through his hair. "I mean, she's right, you know? We're setting ourselves up for disaster. I don't want to hurt you. But I don't want to hurt Haley, either, and she'll be home soon. So will Lucas, remember? Maybe it's better if we just … don't see each other anymore."

Brooke knew she'd caused her share of heartbreak, and she thought she'd experienced it before, with the betrayal of Lucas and Peyton she'd barely survived. But this, these soft, rational words, delivered from a mouth she'd been kissing eight hours ago, was somehow worse. There was no one else to blame, nowhere to aim all the anger and hurt that was welling up inside her. Like she'd said, she'd known what she was getting into and she'd gone and done it anyway.

It served her right, to think she'd deserved some kind of happy ending. Who had she been kidding?

"You're a bastard." The words, pushed past the lump in her throat, were laced with misery instead of the meanness she'd intended. "And this is all on you. Okay? I just want us to be clear on that. You're the one who started all of this. _You_ convinced_ me_. Not the other way around. Remember that."

Nathan couldn't quite place the feeling that clenched in his gut as she turned to walk away, but if he'd had to guess, he would've said regret. This wasn't what he wanted. Seeing Brooke's back to him, her shoulders slumped, no trace of the usual swing in her hips, made him ache in ways he hadn't known he could hurt.

"Brooke, wait," he called out, his voice breaking the stillness of the night air. There wasn't even a pause in her steps. "Brooke."

She never looked back.


	7. Currents

**Currents**

_If this is ever meant to end_

_I hope it ends where it began:_

_So hot with love we burned our hands._

"Karen, I need you take table ten for me," Brooke requested as she whizzed into the kitchen, moving at double the pace she'd been trudging around with lately.

Karen sighed and glanced over at the table, already knowing what she would see. It had been two weeks since Brooke had stopped smiling and Nathan had started appearing, every day at precisely twelve o'clock, to be served the new house special, Silent Treatment a la Brooke.

"Brooke." Karen followed the girl into the kitchen, finding her chopping a carrot with such force that it was no mystery as to who she was imagining beneath the blade. "There are maybe three other customers out there, I know you're not too busy to take another table. _Brooke_. You have to face him sometime."

"Wrong," Brooke sang under her breath. "I don't have to do anything I don't want to do and I no longer have any desire to do the things I shouldn't do. You're the one who told me to watch my step, remember?"

Softening, Karen lay one hand on her shoulder, stilling her vicious work on the vegetables. "I know I may have been a little … harsh last time I spoke to you about this. But I was worried about Lucas and _his _heart being broken."

"Oh, because God forbid anyone lay a finger on poor little Lucas," Brooke spat out, jerking away from Karen's touch and busying herself tossing a salad. "Please, save him from big, bad Brooke who might decide she needs _more_ from her life than being his go-to girl."

"I realize now that I was wrong in saying what I said," Karen interrupted, before the rant could gain any momentum. "I still think what you're doing with Nathan could hurt a lot of people - including you, as these past weeks have proven. And seeing you hurt is as bad as seeing my own son hurt. So, while I want you to be careful, I also have to add … that you have to do what makes you happy."

"Fine." Brooke slammed the salad bowl down. "You want me to be happy? Take Nathan's order. Sprinkle in some poison. Voila – instant happiness for Brooke!"

Karen sighed. "I'm not going to do it, Brooke. You're going to go out there and face him and you will not, under any circumstances, spit in his food. Because no matter what happened between the two of you, you are a beautiful, confident young woman who doesn't let anyone get the better of her. Not even cute high school athletes who seem genuinely sorry about whatever they did to make her mad."

Brooke debated, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "Okay," she finally relented. "You've got a good point – I am beautiful. But no promises on the spitting thing. He totally deserves it."

XXX

Nathan sat himself at a table near the window and waited, extremely ill at ease, for someone to approach him. Ten minutes went by before Brooke stomped over, slapped a menu on the table, then crossed her arms. "Well?" she prompted, when he simply stared at her. "What do you want?"

"That depends –" he began, the words barely escaping before she cut in.

"If you even try that stupid line on me again, I swear to God, Nathan, I will chop off your testicles and make you eat _those_," she warned.

"On whether or not you're still serving breakfast," Nathan finished.

"Oh." Brooke cleared her throat. "Yes. Until one."

He nodded, holding back a grin. Score one for Scott. "Then I'll just have my usual."

"Of _course_ you will," Brooke sneered. "Wouldn't want to stray from the norm, now would we?"

Before he could respond, she marched out of sight. Nathan sighed and steeled himself for what was sure to be an unpleasant meal. But anything – even this blind rage – was better than the stony silence she'd been using against him. Now if he could just get her to listen to the apology he'd been practicing, everything would be perfect.

"Here you go, don't choke," Brooke announced, setting his plate down.

He grabbed her wrist before she could flee the table. "Brooke, can we just talk for a minute?"

"Let go of me or you will end up with hot coffee in your lap," she growled, eyeing his fingers as if she might catch a disease from the contact.

Nathan wouldn't have put it past her, but he was willing to take a chance – mostly because there were witnesses and he knew she couldn't afford to lose the job. "I dare you," he said smugly, and braced himself for the worst.

Bluff called, Brooke seemed to deflate in front of him. "Fine," she acquiesced. "You have one minute to convince me you're not the devil in human form. Go."

"The devil? That's a little harsh, Davis, don't you –" He stopped talking when she pointed to her watch. "Okay, okay. Brooke, I'm really sorry about the stunt I pulled at the courts. It was stupid – and immature – and I can't believe I even did it. I mean, Karen was right, but you were, too. This whole … _thing _with us is my doing, I pushed you into it, and I'm sorry for that, too."

"Time's up," Brooke said suddenly, wrenching herself out of his grasp. "I'll bring your check over in a sec."

"Wait," he called out, standing up as she began to walk away. "That's all you have to say to me? Not even an insult? Not even … I mean, come on, Brooke, are you losing your touch?"

She tilted her head to the side, her smile a warning sign. "No, Nathan," she drawled out, dragging her finger down his chest from clavicle to navel. "_You're_ losing my touch. I just figure, that's punishment enough, isn't it?"

Nathan closed his eyes against the wave of sensations just one brush of her fingers created inside him. "Karen?" he ground out, his raised voice attracting the attention of the other customers. "May I please have a moment with your waitress?"

"She's all yours," Karen said with a wave of her hand.

"That's where you're both wrong," Brooke declared, turning on her heel. She'd taken two steps when Nathan swooped her up, hauled her over his shoulder, and strode through the kitchen to the back alleyway. "Nathan, put me down! Do _not_ cause a scene, I work here, for God's sake!"

He silenced her the only way he knew how – fusing his lips to hers and pouring all the words he couldn't say into the kiss. Startled at first, Brooke didn't react, but then instinct kicked in and she rose up to her tiptoes to better respond.

It still felt right to be in his arms, to be kissing him, and she hated him for that. After several minutes – it could have been hours, days, with the way her head was swimming – she pulled away, gasping for breath. "Stop," she ordered, backing up when he tried to pull her into his arms again. "I mean it, Nathan, stop it. I'm not gonna do this with you."

"Why _not_?" he asked, his own breath coming more harshly than usual. "We both want to be together, Brooke, why shouldn't we?"

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed, overcome with the urge to tear out her own hair. "You just can't make up your mind, can you? It's disgusting, Nathan, really. First we should, then we shouldn't, now we should? God, do _you_ even know what you want?"

"I didn't," he answered honestly. "I mean, in the beginning, I just knew I wanted to be with you. You were fun and sexy and, well, I guess you were a distraction."

"Oh, great, _that's_ what every girl loves to hear," she muttered sarcastically.

Nathan ignored her. "But then you became … more, and I didn't think I wanted that. I have a wife, you know? I took vows, I made promises. So I ended it with you. That was the right decision, I know it was. But I can't … I can't stop thinking about you. These past two weeks have been hell for me, Brooke.

"I want _you_," he confessed, his brown eyes darker and more intense than she'd ever seen them. "And not like in the beginning, for the fun and the sex and all that, I want … all of you. The quiet you that hides on the roof and the sad you that tries to act all big and tough and the … unbearably sweet you that just has to smile to make me feel like myself again."

Brooke ducked her head so her hair covered her face, determined not to let him see her so close to crying. When she thought she'd regained control, she looked up to find him still staring at her with those same feverish eyes, still waiting for whatever absolution she would give him.

"I can't," she told him, and the words were so thick with tears that she had to repeat them, shaking her head. "I can't do this, Nathan. Not with you."

"Brooke," he began.

"No." She held up her hand, as if to ward off anything else he might say. "I'm sorry. I just … I can't."

He was so stunned – by her refusal of him, by the depths of misery in her eyes – that he couldn't even react as she shoved past him and hurried out of sight.


	8. Heaven Here

-1Hey guys, sorry this chapter took a while, I'm back at school and things are crazy. But this is the end of Dusk and Summer! I wanted to leave it like this, kind of open and frozen, but have no fear, there's a sequel in the works that has Lucas and Haley's return and Nathan and Brooke dealing with all that. Anyway, hope you enjoyed and don't forget to leave me your final thoughts!

**Heaven Here**

_Heaven's not waiting, it's spilling its secrets_

_It's right here between us_

_And we've no other choice but to believe._

"What took you so long?"

Brooke screamed as she leapt into the air and her heart leapt into her throat. "What the _hell_?" she exclaimed, staggering backwards until she stumbled into the coffee table. "_Nathan_?! Jesus Christ, what are you doing in my living room?"

"Well, I tried the roof," he answered, standing from the couch he'd made himself comfortable on. "But you weren't up there."

"Let me rephrase," she growled, her anger only intensified by the near-death experience he'd just given her. "What are you doing here, period?"

"I just ..." He shrugged, at a loss. He'd been waiting for hours for her to return, watching the day slide into night, and he still had no idea how to begin. "I wanted to be sure you were okay. You took off from the Cafe pretty fast."

"To get away from _you_," she pointed out, pivoting and striding out of the room so that he had no choice but to follow. "I thought I made that pretty clear."

"Brooke, don't _do_ that," he called after her, exasperated. Why was she always walking away from him? And for that matter, why was he always so quick to chase after her? "You know, one day you're gonna turn around and I'm not gonna be standing here."

That seemed to strike a nerve, as she whirled around on him, her eyes alight with a fierceness he'd never seen. "_That_," she spat out, driving her finger into his chest hard enough to bruise, "Is exactly the point."

Nathan raised his hands in the universal gesture of surrender. "Whoa," he said, rather mildly. "What are you talking about, Brooke? _What's_ the point?"

Her hazel eyes rolled heavenward. "God, it's like you're _challenged._ No wonder you needed to marry a tutor."

"Hey -" he cut in, more in his own defense than of his marriage to Haley.

"The point," she continued, not giving him an inch, "Is that one day, you won't be here. I mean, you're asking me to spend time with you, to be in this - this screwed up, pseudo-relationship with you, and what happens next? Haley will be back in a few weeks. Are you really gonna look her in the eye and say 'Sorry, hon, but I've got myself a brand new girlfriend'?"

It was clear from the blank look on his face that confession wasn't an option Nathan had even considered. As he reeled from the shock, Brooke chuckled - mirthlessly, the sound a poor imitation of her usual joyful giggle.

"Exactly the point," she repeated, her tone just as flat as her laugh.

Her lack of emotion had him worried. Brooke was full of enthusiasm; she never spoke when she could chirp, never walked where she could bounce. To see her eyes go lifeless created a similar hollow sensation in the pit of his stomach. "I never said I would choose Haley over you," he argued.

"Of _course _you would," she told him, almost condescendingly. "You already have. Remember? At the courts? "I don't want to hurt you, Brooke, but I don't want to hurt Haley, either". Well, guess what, Nathan, you can't have your cake and eat it, too. You _have _to choose. And we both know who you'll pick."

"What if I pick you?" he shot back, an idea that silenced them both.

It wasn't something he'd let himself consider before, the edges of the plan still vague and fuzzy, but it was tempting. Why _couldn't _it work? They understood each other, or at least they were beginning to. He still wanted to know so much _more_ about her - whether or not she snored, what she looked like when she cried, if she liked Italian or seafood better.

"If you pick me ..." Brooke trailed off, allowing herself to imagine it. They could be good together, she was sure of that. They had fit, physically, from the very first time they'd touched. It seemed like his body had been designed specifically with hers in mind.

But it wasn't her ring that he wore around his finger. He had never made any promises to her like the ones he'd given Haley. She couldn't be responsible for all the damage that would be done. She was trying to be a better person than who she'd been in the past. Starting the school year with her hand in Nathan's might make her feel good, but it would do nothing but hurt everyone around them, everyone they both cared about.

"If you pick me," she continued, her eyes still faraway and gleaming with unshed tears. "You'll have to divorce Haley. Lucas will come back and I'll have to tell him that I've fallen for his brother. We'll have to explain ourselves, constantly, to everyone. Your father will probably kill you. Karen won't be able to look me in the eye."

"But we'd be together," Nathan pointed out, bringing his hand up to tuck her hair behind her ear.

It was a small gesture - they'd touched far more intimately before - but it stopped Brooke's heart. Her eyes shuttered closed, relishing the brush of his fingers, and then she reached to pull his hand away.

"I could probably love you," she confessed, each word a piece of shattered glass tearing at her insides as she forced them out. "I mean, if things were different, I really think we'd have a chance. But, Nathan ... let's be real here, okay? It would wreck lives - _our_ lives, eventually. You would graduate high school with a divorce under your belt. I would lose the only real friends I've ever had. It's not right."

Nathan stared as the realization dawned that _this _was the Brooke he'd wanted so badly to see. The parts of herself that she hid from the world; the kindness she tried so hard to coat over with sarcasm; the heart she pretended not to have. Her speech did nothing but confirm the feelings he'd been wrestling with for weeks.

"Could you say that again?" he asked her, stepping closer so there was no space between them.

She told herself to back up, to regain the breathing room, but her feet didn't move. "It's not _right_," she repeated, unable to look at him.

"No." Nathan shook his head, tilting her chin up so that her eyes were forced to meet his. "The part about how you could love me. Do you mean that?"

Brooke exhaled. "Don't be an idiot," she told him, not unkindly. "This whole summer, it's been you and me. Since that first day on the beach, it's been ... it's been you."

"Thank God," was Nathan's only response before he enveloped her in his arms and buried his face in her hair. "You had me worried for a while, there. I was beginning to think it was just me."

She was wary, but couldn't help returning the embrace. "What are you talking about, Nathan?"

"Brooke." He pulled away, but just enough so he could look into her eyes as he said it. "I feel the same way. And I didn't see it coming. I tried to ignore it, and avoid it, and let it go, but I can't. I can't just walk away from you. And I can't stand it when you run away from me."

"But we can't do this," she said, her voice quite but insistent. She had turned her face into the crook of his shoulder as he'd spoken, relishing every syllable, but she raised her head now. "You were right, at the courts. I don't want to hurt anyone. And I don't want to hurt anymore either. Okay? It's too much."

Nathan only pulled her closer. "How about a compromise?" he proposed, knowing he was asking for more than he had a right to and just not caring. "It's still summer, right? Let's take tonight and just ... just enjoy it. Tomorrow, we can see where we stand."

"Tonight." Brooke could feel herself slipping. Would it be so terrible, really, for her to be happy for just one night? The damage had been done weeks ago, when they'd first slept together. It wouldn't make a difference now if they gave themselves one last night.

And it _would _be the last night. She understood that, even if Nathan didn't. She didn't need tomorrow to see where they stood - she knew exactly. He belonged with his wife and Brooke ... well, she didn't really belong to anyone.

"Okay," she said finally, a small smile twisting her lips. It felt good, saying yes to him, knowing that he would be holding her when she fell asleep.

The grin that spread across Nathan's lips made it clear he was looking forward to much of the same. "Yeah?" he asked, leaning into her so their foreheads touched. "For real?"

"For real," she acquiesced, and started to say more, but she was cut off by a kiss that sent shivers down her spine. Meeting his lips with the same kind of passion, Brooke closed her eyes and let everything else go with the inward resolve that in the morning, she would walk away.

Tonight, though ... tonight, she belonged with him.


End file.
